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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507329">Gemini</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameAntarctica/pseuds/CodenameAntarctica'>CodenameAntarctica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Innocent [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brainwashing, Gay Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:42:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameAntarctica/pseuds/CodenameAntarctica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Some weeks after the warehouse fight in Macao Akihito is stolen from the hospital and finds himself in enemy hands… but what to do with him?<br/>One man has some little cruel idea to get his payback from Asami.</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><span class="u"><b>!!!! Beware of SPOILERS for chapter 89 !!!!</b></span><br/>This story bridges the five-months time skip, weighing in on what might have happened to Akihito, and ends at the cliffhanger in Warsaw.</p><p>NO major-character death or anything! But there is violence, torture and smut.<br/>Might be turned into a series if readers are interested in my idea of what might happen after <i>that</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron / Takaba Akihito, Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Innocent [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akhimy/gifts">Akhimy</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I promised a fic to Akhimy in which Aaron wins – at least in some way. And he will.</p><p>There are smut scenes between Aaron and Akihito later on (no rape/non-con). If you do not want to read them in detail, keep an eye on my notes above the chapters. I have given advice on how to skip them in the text.</p><p>You find the name of the one tanned chapter-89-guy as both Alec and Alex on the net. I went with Alec, because I have only ever seen the name Alex written アレクス. This one however is written アレク (missing the 'su' at the end which would turn 'ku' into 'ksu'). I think that Alec is correct therefore ;)</p><p>For anybody who has read me before - especially my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033884">Beyond the shallow ground</a>-series: This is a new story altogether. So characters are reset to as they are according to canon at this point of the story ;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The blonde man had obviously already caught the eye of two of the waitresses. They were in their mid-twenties, had both put a shiny white apron around their black dresses and had their hair fixed in the same way – a tight bun pulled it to the back of their heads. Even their makeup seemed identical. Very likely it was some sort of “corporate-design” for all the women working at the illustrious Café situated between the old town of Warsaw and the city’s university.</p><p>Right now, there were only a few guests around – due to it being off tourist season and in the middle of the week – and the two girls for once did <em>indeed</em> have the time to whisper and snicker to each other. On weekends, especially in the summer, the crowds showing up here for breakfast and tea and cakes where unbelievable.</p><p>Just one of the many reasons, why Aaron had never liked this place.</p><p>That list of causes for his aversion was long. He had no sympathies for the attempt to recreate some British 19<sup>th</sup> Century chic. It felt to him exactly like he believed Disneyland would feel to him: fake and superficial. People would come here to pretend for some short time that they were someone else, somewhere else. They would think that they had suddenly turned into something other than the despicable excuses for a human-being they were in reality.</p><p>It just felt to him like playing at being a family at Christmas.</p><p>Of course, he knew, that exactly for these reasons this place had been chosen as their meeting point. After all, his brother was all about make-believe and pretense.</p><p>And how they all loved him for his fake smiles and sparkly eyes and manners. Very few had ever managed to see the truth behind all that and lived to tell the tale afterwards.</p><p>These two women, <em>however</em>,… they would never know about any of that. They would glance for a little longer at the man sitting alone in the corner with his legs crossed, wearing a dark blue suit and looking smug. Then they would forget him. Because <em>that</em> happened as well.</p><p><em>He</em> was a chameleon, blending in anywhere perfectly. No one ever thought him capable of any misdeeds or falseness, and therefore hardly anybody was ever on guard when they met him. One had to be a very vigilant being to even sense that there might be the slightest thing off about him. And because no one took him to be suspicious in any way, he had been able to just stroll out of any scheme and plot and fight he had ever pulled, smiling and unfazed.</p><p>Aaron though knew him too well. <em>He</em> had learned his lessons the hard way.</p><p>When he walked through the Café with its brown, black and white checkered floor, white tablecloths, and golden picture frames, the two women noticed him.</p><p>“Sir, may I take you to a table?”, one asked in Polish, and even though he understood perfectly well, Aaron answered in English: “I’ll do that on my own.”</p><p>He walked past the two, not waiting for any reaction, and approached the table with the one man, who had now looked up. Again, he smiled as he always did. His eyes sparkled and seemed to brim with joy.</p><p><em>‘What a lie!’</em>, Aaron mused to himself.</p><p>It all fit the other man <em>so</em> well: The white porcelain of the tea cup and pot, the silver cutlery, the expensive bottle of water and crystal glass, the crimson, tiny cake in front of him of which he had not yet taken a bite. Aaron would have loved to spit onto the floor in disgust. Instead, he dragged a chair roughly over, then sat down opposite the other.</p><p>“Good morning”, <em>that </em>man said.</p><p><em>That man</em>… Alec. Handsome, blonde, blue-eyed Alec. Well-tanned as always from spending most of his days at the Côte d’Azur fucking some models presumably half his age and less intelligent than the animals on which their make-up got tested before allowed for sale. He did his work from the phone or from a notebook, sitting on the balcony of a luxury hotel or on some Yacht floating on the gleaming blue waters. Like that he sent his men to fight his dirty wars and threw them in front of the enemy’s artillery, because not anybody’s life had ever mattered to him. Not that of those loyal to him, not that of any family member.</p><p>They were numbers for him. Replaceable like a toothpick.</p><p>Aaron was the other way around. He fought with those men, who worked for him. He was always on the front line, no matter at what risk. Those by his side were his brothers, instead of that caricature of a California beach boy across the table.</p><p>No one had ever thought them to be family. With surprise and wonderment, they always reacted once they had found out that the dazzling Alec had a sibling as dull and plain as Aaron. They shook their heads in amazement and disbelieve … and if he had even cared, then <em>he</em> would have rephrased their thoughts into: <em>‘…as real and as genuine as Aaron’</em>.</p><p>But he did not care. Not even to correct their first assessment: They were not merely brothers. They were twins. Twins as different to each other as possible.</p><p>“Mh”, in a low growl was Aaron’s answer to the greeting. A coffee was placed in front of him a moment later by an elderly waiter. Alec had obviously ordered it before.</p><p>“I would invite you to some cake, but I know you hate anything sweet”, the man across the table said, his teeth as white as the porcelain, his smile probably the kindest in the world – if only it was real.</p><p>In any other constellation, the newly arrived would have thanked the other for the courteousness – for the coffee and the deliberation about the cake – but Aaron did not feel any gratefulness and Alec did not expect any.</p><p>“Do you want to eat something <em>else</em>? Should we get the menu?”, the younger by 23 minutes asked, but Aaron just shook his head. He was in a foul mood. Well, he usually was when he had to deal with his brother – or any family member for that matter – yet today and several days before <em>that</em> he was pretty close to an all-time low.</p><p> Alec of course realized it easily. He leaned back in his chair and took a sip from his tea, watching the other with raised, joyous eyebrows across the brim of the porcelain cup.</p><p>“You know…”, he continued when he put the cup back down. “…, you don’t need to look so sinister to frighten people away. That scar on your face is already doing a pretty good job.”</p><p>“Funny!”, Aaron answered coldly. “You want to tell me now, why you ordered Chernobog to get Asami out of that hospital when you did that yourself?”</p><p>“Oh, cutting straight to business as always”, Alec smiled, his voice and eyes full of warmth. He threw a little gander around as if he wanted to behold the richly decorated room again. Then he took a bite from his cake and dragged the time to savor it. In annoyance Aaron sipped on his coffee which at least was very good here.</p><p>“There is as usual a very simple reason for that, of course”, the other man finally answered. Now he leaned forward and looked like someone just genuinely enjoying the wonder of the cake in front of him.</p><p>“Yeah”, Aaron snarled at his brother, who just continued chiming the rest of his explanation as if he had not heard anything: “You know I don’t trust <em>nobody</em>. I needed you to get Shu out of there because I might still be able to use his intel if there is anything left working properly in his tiny head. But if you and your men had just stomped in there and had passed by the <em>’big price Asami’</em>, that would have looked suspicious. <em>So</em>, I did not want you or anybody to know, that he would have been snatched away from you before you marched into his room. That was just a precaution in case somebody caught and questioned any of you.”</p><p>“I told the men that you wanted us to take Asami out of there. You made me look like a fool”, Aaron complained. He was not angry. Something like <em>that</em> did not happen to him. What he was, was enraged, that he was being used again. It had been like this always, and even though he had tried and had indeed managed to gain some sort of freedom from his brother’s oppression, Chernobog still belonged to the sunny boy across the table.</p><p>Of course, Aaron could just leave. He had the means to vanish, the money to get through. But what then? He did not see himself sitting on some island watching the sun sink. He did not want to live in some city, in some flat, washing his dishes evening after evening after having a tv dinner. If he was his brother, he could buy himself a Yacht and fuck some girls with tight cunts and nice asses.</p><p>But that was not his world. His brother was raging wars like a king from his throne room, while dining on oysters and drinking Champagne. He, however, was a warrior. He would die fighting, sword or gun in hand.</p><p>“<em>No</em>”, Alec looked up from his cake with a patronizing smile. “You made <em>yourself</em> look like a fool. I never told you to try and kill him. I never <em>allowed</em> you to. Your task was to roughen him up, to stir him out of his comfort zone, to chase and hunt him. But not to try and kill him. But you did. You and that Yuri, for whatever reason… I don’t even care. But <em>that’s</em> on you. And <em>now </em>it’s over. <em>Now</em> we play by <em>my</em> rules again… this is really nice. You’re missing something”, at the end he had turned to savor his cake again.</p><p>Aaron just growled into his coffee.</p><p>He had not gone with the men who had visited Queen Mary hospital one night a week ago, because he still had two broken rips and the scar on his face made him draw attention everywhere. Instead, he had remained in the van, waiting for Sudou Shu and Asami Ryuichi to be delivered. The latter however had not been found in his room and the guards positioned by Baishe along some doors and corridors had not been a problem as they had been cold out – just like the hospital’s staff.</p><p>Hearing of all of that, he had not needed more than a second to realize that his brother had set them up. It was not a trap or anything like that, but not much better. Alec had given him an exact timeframe, when to be there – obviously the perfect moment for the sleeping gas to have dissolved from the air or to have lost its effect on anybody inhaling it <em>now</em>, but early enough that everyone else who had been on the hospital’s floor before was still unconscious.</p><p>Already <em>this </em>realization had been enough to sour Aaron’s mood. Then he had been told that Asami had not been found, and had known right away that this was just some scheme of his brother. While Alec had gotten the big price, <em>they</em> had been the ones to do the dirty work. If Baishe had caught his men, they could have sworn under torture that they did not know where Asami had been taken to, but never would they have been believed.</p><p>‘<em>Chernobog!</em>’, it certainly was the common belief <em>now</em>, had stolen the man away, and they would be hunted to get him back, not the real culprit.</p><p>That way Alec had covered his tracks in front of anybody who was not supposed to know about his role in all of this. And by having Aaron and his men take Sudou right after his own attack on the hospital, he had made sure that anybody who would be allowed to know of his involvement – Maxim Asami, for example – would not know of his part in<em> that</em>.</p><p>But one tiny bit his brother had missed in all of this. He had called Asami <em>‘the big price’</em> – and the man was in the end – as far as both of them were concern. Aaron wanted him dead just for the fun of it, and what and why Alec was messing with him, he did not even care anymore. Yet if it still was his brother’s goal to torment and destroy the Japanese without just killing him, then he had left his best opportunity behind in the hospital.</p><p>Aaron started to smile. He knew it was not pretty when he did so. Even before that scar had disfigured his face he had never been as handsome or pleasant as his brother. Well… at least in <em>his</em> veins there still was some blood!</p><p>“So,” he began, staring icily into his brother’s eyes, “you still don’t want that kid?”</p><p>Alec shrugged indifferently. “No. Maxim did not tell me to get anything else but Asami. No toothbrush, no pair of socks, no fuck-toy. So, I didn’t. I would not like him to think ill of me in any way. You know that”, for a split second he grinned maliciously, but it vanished just as quickly as it had shown.</p><p>In a phone call before, Aaron had tried to explain to his brother, whom his men had carried from the hospital instead of Asami: Akihito Takaba. And he was <em>so much more</em> than a fuck-toy. His brother however – no matter the expert he was in manners and at reading other people – had nearly no understanding for <em>real</em> affection. ‘<em>Love’</em> to him was just a four-letter word, <em>if</em> he <em>was</em> even able to spell it…</p><p>Nonetheless, Aaron had tried, to point out the significance of their catch to the other, but Alec had not understood and had therefore dismissed any recommendation to use the boy against Asami.</p><p>“That means I can keep him? I can… play with him a bit.”</p><p>“Yeah… Roro, you can do with him whatever you want. I really don’t care.”</p><p>Alec was aware, that his brother hated it, when he called him by that name. And Aaron knew that the other did it only to spite him. He let it pass.</p><p>“Then I’ll make a bet with you: Give me a while… some months, and I will turn him into the best way to hurt Ryuichi Asami you have ever thought possible.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a particularly dark place, so was it any wonder his mind had turned onto a likewise grim route? He leaned against one of the walls of that damp, narrow basement into which they had settled. Hard, cold light from only one lamp shed some brightness into the corridor and was reflected by the battered steel door in front of him. The purpose the room behind it had once had – a small storeroom perhaps – had long since been forgotten. <em>Now </em>it was a cell.</p><p>In it there was no window in the high, greyish painted stone walls and no other way out except through the one door. An adult would not be able to stretch out in it even if he lay down diagonally on the cold, brutal, concrete floor. The only exchange of air was ensured by one fist-sized hole far up in one corner, and through it had been shoved several cables that ended in large speakers and one lamp that had all been fixed to the ceiling – far away out of reach. Right now, however, once again something more except for cables and air crushed through that hole: stroboscopic, bright, blue light and unbearable noise – a 90ties techno track too loud and on fast forward - shot out into the corridor for a few seconds… then silence again.</p><p>Aaron did not flinch whenever the turmoil set in, nor when it stopped. He had been tortured like that. He had been tortured too many times to still feel anything when memories hit him with cold force.</p><p>He had been sixteen the first time. They had pulled out his fingernails with pincers, they had given him electroshocks. He had not said a word. He did not betray his friends.</p><p>The only reason they had let him live was that he had not been important or a threat. Just some teen caught at the wrong time at the wrong place – and it had been Alec’s fault as always.</p><p>“Yeah… Roro, you can do with him whatever you want. I really don’t care”, his brother had said in his usual patronizing manner. In the eyes of everyone Alec had always been the better… <em>the best really</em>. And Alec had always believed it.</p><p>It was one of the reasons why Aaron had never cared about the moral and value concepts of other people. If only they knew how wrongly they judged… <em>if only they knew!</em></p><p>Any attempt to make his brother see the opportunity the capture of that boy Takaba had granted them had been unsuccessful, just like any try at explaining what that kid meant to Asami Ryuichi. Alec had reprimanded Aaron and his men for even getting him from the hospital and had told them to just get rid of him. That had not changed a bit. But now, Aaron had made a bet with his brother, and those Alec had never declined. He loved to win and prove once more that he was the better one.</p><p>And hell yes, this might fail and in the end he would laugh at Aaron again. He would ridicule the amount of time and work his brother had put into all of this without any gain. Then the boy would just be flushed down some drain…</p><p><em>But if he succeeded</em>… if he managed to turn into reality that one small, little, nasty idea he had suddenly had then <em>that</em> would be the best payback possible. And it would crush Asami.</p><p>Again, the din and blue flashes of light burst through the tiny hole into the corridor, when an evil grin showed on Aaron’s lips. He played with the key to the steel door in his hand, let it wander through his fingers, rotating and twisting it. It would open that door and unlock the beginning of his work.</p><p>With a jerk he pushed himself away from the wall, stepped over to the entrance to the small room and switched off the power supply for the stroboscopic lamp and the speakers. Silence fell as heavily as the blade of a guillotine. Then he rolled his shoulders a few times, stretched his neck, arms and fingers, before he unlocked the door and gently and quietly pulled it open.</p><p>There was some movement inside the dark cell, but nothing of it could be seen. The lamp in the corridor was too far away.</p><p>Inside it stank of excretions, sweat and damp concrete, but Aaron did not even wrinkle his nose. He got down into a crouch and pulled the door almost shut behind him. In the blindness he fished in one of his pockets and found a tiny reading lamp – the kind you charge with an USB-cable and could clip to your book. It was not bright, but the light was warm and kind, when he switched it on, compared to the aggressive, hurting flashes of blue.</p><p>“Arata?”, he whispered in the most caring and worried tone he could muster. In his profession you did not survive for long if you weren’t a good actor.</p><p>The prisoner lay in one back corners, knees pulled to the chest, arms tugged around them and also hiding his head. He looked like a scared puppy, shaking and dirty and otherwise not giving any reaction.</p><p>Slowly and gingerly Aaron pushed the lamp across the floor towards the other. It would work wonderfully in those hours they just left the boy in darkness and solitude. He even leaned forward to shover it farther away, until it was out of the reach of his fingertips. Then he got back into his crouch.</p><p>“This is for you, Arata”, he said in a soft whisper. “You need to hide it when they come. If they find it, they will take it away and will wonder from whom you got it.”</p><p>No reaction.</p><p>Takaba Akihito had been smuggled from the hospital in exactly the same way they had planned for Asami: by help of chloroform. The dose however had been a bit too high for him. For two days after regaining consciousness, he had kept vomiting and they had been forced to get him onto some IV to prevent him from just dying of dehydration. He had been barely awake in all that time. <em>After that</em> he had been put into some metal box in which usually small animals were shipped in trains or cargo ships. At first, he had shouted to be set free. Then he had started to beg whoever was out there, to let him go. After a while, he had not had any strength for even <em>that</em> anymore. He had started to whimper and sob and had hardly moved at all.</p><p>Aaron’s face he had not seen once in all of it. And he had only ever once had a glimpse at it before – though maybe not even a good one: at Chernobog’s attack on the apartment in which he and Asami Ryuichi had lived until months ago.</p><p>It had been Alec’s order to chase the bastard from his nest. To hound him even out of Japan. And it had worked, very well… But if the kid actually remembered Aaron’s face from back then – and that scar made him rather well recognizable – then he already had a good explanation for it.</p><p>Until now however, there had not been any reaction at all. Akihito still lay in the corner, dressed in a black pajama that was far too large and incredibly dirty, huddled together like a frightened animal. <em>But</em> Aaron had to give him credit. He had seen many people in this situation. Strong, brave men who had been tossed into a small box or a cell, and had been kept in there, deprived of freedom and sleep and peace, kept in solitude and dirt, always fearing to be left behind to die there after slowly, painfully wasting away for days… maybe weeks. Most of them had wept at <em>this</em> point. They had pulled out their hair, had bit their nails to the bone, and clung to whoever could be seen or heard anywhere, promising to do anything – <em>anything at all</em> – for just one glass of clean water.</p><p>Takaba Akihito however was still defiant, even <em>if</em> he looked like he wanted to melt into the wall to find safety there. He had only begged to be let go when they had brought him from Macao to Poland in that box but had not made any promises or proposition then. <em>Now</em>, he remained silent, as if he had resigned to sit this out in stubbornness.</p><p>“Arata?”, Aaron whispered again, his voice so full of warmth and care.</p><p>In Japanese the boy’s name meant <em>‘a fresh and new individual’</em>… and that he would have to become… someone else… formed by Aaron… trusting only Aaron.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whenever his men came to visit, they howled and screamed, they banged against the steel door, they kicked and hit the young man in the cell. They ripped him from the few seconds of sleep he sometimes got, whenever the noise and flashlights had been switched off to teach him the meaning of darkness and solitude.</p><p>They tossed buckets of icy water at him, and it would be the only thing he got to drink often enough. They shoved him around, slammed him against the walls, pulled his hair out, strangled him.</p><p>Yet the boy did not beg. Sometimes, when the horror or pain became too much, he would cry and pant, but he remained silent in all of that.</p><p>When Aaron came to him, however, he would walk quietly, he would turn the key in the lock with caution, would open the door slowly and carefully. For days he just sat in the entrance. The first time he had left the small lamp there, and had not waited for Aki…, <em>no</em>, Arata to take it. The second time he had left him very good, flesh-colored earplugs and had expressed his sorrow that he could not get the prisoner a pillow or a sleeping-mask. All of that the others would notice, when they came in here to awaken and torment him. The third and fourth time it had been water, fresh and clear from a bottle that he opened for the weakened young man, who did not react whatsoever – he just lay there, huddled into the corner, hiding his face, shaking.</p><p>“I’ll leave it with you. I’ll lock the door and will be back in half an hour. I think we have that much time. You can drink in peace. And I will just come back to get the bottle. They cannot find it with you, Arata”, he had whispered, speaking slowly and amiable.</p><p>He could <em>act</em> all of that – and it would just be as false as Alec’s usually pretending. Yet his twin enjoyed and loved all that make-believe. Aaron didn’t. He only put on a role, when it was necessary.</p><p>The boy had not reacted to any of that. Not in the first week, not in the second, in which Aaron had <em>smuggled</em> him some slices of apples, some strawberries, some sweets, while the other men tormented and haunted him. Whenever Aaron came to the cell, the noise would be switched off, the flashes would end, and no one would hurt him. Yet when he left, there was no peace, no safety possible.</p><p>In the fifth week the boy looked up for the first time. He had been beaten severely the day before. His cheeks and chin were bruised, his nose had bled, his lips had been torn open by some knuckle. The dirty black pajamas were ripped and torn, and all the buttons now lay somewhere in the cell, hiding in the darkness.</p><p>The men had yelled at him in Russian, had spat at him, had strangled him. Then they had turned the noise even louder and the flashlight had been left on for three whole days. But <em>now </em>they were finally switched off. Aaron pulled the door open gently and stepped inside.</p><p>He brought a small bowl and a towel. Both, he placed on the floor as far away from the prisoner as the tiny cell allowed.</p><p>One eye looking at him from beneath badly cut hair. That was the first reaction he had ever gotten.</p><p>“Arata”, he hummed ever <em>so</em> softly. “I have brought you some warm water and a towel. I am so sorry I can’t protect you here. I can’t get you out yet. But I promise you, I will.”</p><p>With measured, cautious movements he pushed both presents across the floor towards the prisoner.</p><p>“I have to take that away later, but I leave you with it”, he whispered in resignation and despair. Then he got up and sneaked back to the door again.</p><p>“Why…”, a tiny voice rang behind him. It was hardly audible, yet down here in the damp, narrow corridors there was no other sound, “why… do you… call me <em>that</em>?”</p><p>Takaba Akihito had lifted his head a bit out of the safety of his tightly tugged arms.</p><p>Aaron flinched. He held the door with a trembling hand, acting as if he hearkened to what the enemy might be up to. It was just part of the play, of course. Then he stepped lightly back into the cell, pulled the door shut again and kneeled down, again as far away from the frightened, young man as possible.</p><p>“That-”, he had to pause to push a knot down his throat that wasn’t actually there. “That is… that was your name before all of this.”</p><p>The boy’s eyelashes flattered for a while. He moved his arms to cover his face with his hands and rub it. In the end, he laid his head back onto the concrete floor, but now he stared at Aaron, his eyes nearly empty as if they looked right through him.</p><p>“My name is Akihito.”</p><p>“No”, Aaron contradicted so softly, it could nearly be missed. But the boy blinked again, heavily and slowly this time.</p><p>“My name… is Akihito. You took me from that… there… why?”</p><p>Aaron put a hand onto his lips and closed his eyes for one second. He even managed to shudder a tiny bit. <em>What fun!</em></p><p>“No”, he answered with a deep, sad and distressed sigh. “Your real name is Arata. That was your name before <em>he</em> got to you… before <em>he</em> got you.”</p><p>The other just lay there. Not reacting, just blinking slowly.</p><p>And Aaron waited. There were some rules to the game they were playing unbeknownst to the other. One was, that you had to be the dripping water that wore away the rock. You had to do it slowly, veeeery slowly. Tiny bit by tiny bit. Chipping away at what the target believed and knew.</p><p>Another rule was, that no matter how good you were, the result would not last. The better you had <em>reprogrammed</em> the other, the longer it might keep, the harder the lie would try to defend itself from the truth pushing back in. At some point however, by some trigger it would all be washed away – maybe slowly, maybe in an instant. No one could ever tell.</p><p>But <em>they</em> had time, and Aaron would do it drip by drip by drip.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you mean… <em>‘he got to me?’</em>”, the boy asked nearly a week later. They had not talked in between, except for Aaron telling him that he needed to take the bottles of water, the bowls with fruits, the packaging from the chocolate bars with him later, so they weren’t found. He kept his distance all the time. Always moved slowly, always talked with sorrow and care in his voice.</p><p>Now he crouched next to the door again on the dirty floor and all light they had, came from the little reading lamp. Akihito huddled in the corner, but now he sat there, knees in front of his chest, arms tugged around himself again. He hardly looked up from the tight self-embrace, but beneath the dirty fangs of his hair, Aaron could see the poor, golden light reflecting in a pair of eyes.</p><p>The Russian looked up at the other, his eyes full of dread, before he played at forcing a lump down his throat once again. He had to cough as well, because his voice was hoarse and trembling, when he finally spoke: “Your real name is Takagi Arata. You only used the name Takaba Akihito, when we wanted to bring that bastard down. But he found out about you. He…”, he broke off, but a moment later the other would have interrupted him anyway.</p><p>“No”, the young man said. There was still much defiance in his voice and in the glow of his nearly hidden eyes.</p><p>The kid was indeed impressive that way. He should be completely lost in this underworld and yet he remained steadfast, as if there was some umbilical cord or lifeline still attaching him to the light.</p><p>Aaron had to suppress as smile that was not completely full of contempt.</p><p>He sighed instead and let his head sink to stare at the floor. For a few moments he allowed his shoulders to quiver… as if he was fighting with himself – about what, that was up to anyone’s imagination. It just needed some gestures and movements, and the other party put their own fantasy into it.</p><p>The next sigh was a rather shaky one and he fought for his voice, when he spoke again: “Do you not remember, how he raped you?”</p><p><em>When</em> Asami had met that boy, Aaron did not know. <em>How</em> they had met and had gotten into that sort of relationship Chernobog had never been told to find out anything about and now that information was completely out of reach. Therefore, he had to make do with little prompts and suggestions. And hopefully the other would just fill in the blanks. If Asami had ever had rough sex with his toy, it might work. If they had ever fucked after they had had a fight, Akihito might just set the puzzle together himself. Suggestions and hints were the basis on which the other would create their own lie.</p><p>“Again… and again. And… and I could not protect you… I am sorry, Arata.”</p><p>The other shook his head. Slowly at first. More fiercely by time.</p><p>“No”, he said aloud, and his voice echoed from the walls.</p><p> Aaron got up, shaking and fighting for his balance.</p><p>“I am so sorry, Arata. I will get you out of here. I will find a way. Just hang in there. I know you can.”</p><p>Then he left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaroslaw was a mean bastard. About 2m tall, broad as a wardrobe, half his face disfigured by pockmarks. He had not a single hair on his head and when he opened a jar, he had to make sure he did not break the glass with his bare hands.</p><p>He was also a hell lot of fun, if you were in his good books. And Aaron was. They had been brothers in arms, friends even, for more than a decade. So, when there was need to drip a bit more water unto the rock of Akihito’s resistance, Jaroslaw agreed to join in the game right away.</p><p><em>Now</em> he stomped down the corridor with his heavy military boots and brandished a crowbar against old pipes, until the din echoed around the whole basement. Upon reaching the door, he started to smash the iron rod against the steel, so hard he dented it even more. He tore it open then, burst into the cell and grabbed the boy by his hair who had huddled into the corner again.</p><p>Nothing but a gasp of pain was heard, when Akihito was pulled up or when he was hurled against the wall by a giant fist knotted into the remains of the black pajama. The man in front of him, who was just a mere shadow in the darkness of the cell, yelled at him, his voice crashing against the boundaries of the room and blasting back from them, so tremendously that one’s ears might start to bleed.</p><p>Aaron stayed out of sight all the time, leaning against the wall behind the door, where Akihito would not be able to spot him. He waited, while Jaroslaw did his job.</p><p>Soon his deep, too loud voice boomed questions and insults at the boy, while he shoved and knocked him around the cell. He did not speak any Japanese and therefore had to resort to English, which was not really good as well – and that was how it was supposed to be. Whether the boy’s skills in language were good or not, they had no information about, but if he had attended school in Japan, then it was unlikely that he understood nothing at all. Jarolaw’s own lack of communication skills would do the rest. Because all that Akihito was supposed to get was the gist of it…</p><p>He’d pretty likely understand words like <em>‘traitor’</em> and <em>‘betrayal’</em>, <em>‘sissy boy’</em> and <em>‘fuck tool’, ‘kill him’</em>, ‘<em>Japanese bastard’</em>… There was no need for whole sentences, only for the overall meaning.</p><p>When the message had been delivered, Aaron burst into the cell. He grabbed Jaroslaw around the throat, but the man just shrugged him off, slamming him into the next wall. They fought in the shadows above the unmoving boy on the ground, until Aaron managed to drag the other out of the cell, both clinging to each other like two predators in fight.</p><p>Outside where they could once more not be seen, Jaroslaw hit a few well-aimed punches at Aaron, then the latter returned the favor. It had to sound real – and to look real afterwards.</p><p>Of the end all that Akihito would hear were some strangling sounds, then silence.</p><p>Aaron could only imagine the horror of not knowing, which one had survived: the one who had been about to kill him, or the other, who for some strange reason seemed to protect him.</p><p>Sitting on the floor next to the other man, Aaron let time pass, then he began to pant heavily, smiling at the ugly bastard, who took off his boots so they would not be heard, when he left.</p><p>Then he crawled back into the cell, which as usual lay in utter darkness. He could only vaguely make out the shape of the boy on the floor – right there where he had fallen. With shaking hands, he touched his shoulder and pulled him up unto his lap when there was no protest or resistance.</p><p>“I am sorry, Arata! I am <em>so </em>sorry”, he whispered, his voice full of sorrow and fear and comfort. He rocked the frail body in his arms. <em>Oh, fucking hell, he would have been an awesome actor!</em></p><p>For a while there was no reaction, though he somehow believed that the other was awake. Maybe he was just staring up at the man cradling him in his arms, pretending to be unconscious, too scared to move or speak.</p><p>A low, quiet sigh followed much later. “Why?”, Takaba Akihito asked and one of his hands found Aaron’s arm. “Why did he…”, his voice trailed away mid-sentence.</p><p>“He thinks you betrayed us. They all do. They don’t understand how <em>he </em>has brainwashed you. Used you against us. I am <em>so </em>sorry, Arata. I am sorry, I did not get here earlier.”</p><p>Silence again, but the hand remained there, like it needed to hold on to something.</p><p>When his eyes had finally grown accustomed to the darkness, Aaron could see that there was a trail of blood running down the side of the young man’s head. More had dried beneath his nose. Dark bruises were starting to bloom on his dirty skin.</p><p>“Is he…”, at some point, the other spoke again. “… is… did you kill him?”</p><p>Aaron hesitated for a moment, biting his lip, looking at the door. “I think so.”</p><p>“Won’t they know?”, Akihito asked and though his voice was hardly audible and full of pain and exhaustion, there could some tiny tune of worry be heard in it.</p><p>Again, Aaron looked at the door, panic visible on his face even though he was not sure how much the boy would see of it. <em>‘Everything for the show!’</em>, he thought.</p><p>“I’ll find a way to get rid of him”, he answered shakingly and haggardly. “Just… I need you to be brave. I will get you out of here, Arata. As soon as possible. I promise! I just need you to hang in there!”</p><p>He bit his lip so hard it hurt and when he spoke again, a loud sigh of grief and distress accompanied his words: “Arata, I need you to be brave. I promise, I will protect you!”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hard, cold floor was the only comfort in his new world.</p><p>It would catch him, whenever he fell. It would always be there, when he woke up…</p><p><em>‘Woke?’</em>, he wondered, not sure if it was his own thought or somebody else’s.</p><p>Didn’t he have to sleep to awaken?</p><p>And <em>did</em> he ever sleep? Or was he asleep all the time?</p><p>Was it just a dream?</p><p> </p><p>He could not tell anymore what was real and what was not.</p><p>Voices would ring somewhere near, yet he did not know if they were in his head or on the other side of the steel door.</p><p>Words were spoken and he heard them and was certain that he understood, but he still didn’t. They drained away like water from hands. He could not grasp them.</p><p>His own language might have gotten lost just like his ability to <em>know</em> and to <em>think</em> and to <em>realize</em>…</p><p>In his <em>new </em>world it was always dark. Thus, it had been for an eternity. Like someone had eclipsed all brightness from the universe. Would he never see any daylight again? Had it been lost?</p><p>And if it was not blackness engulfing him, it was a storm of flashes and noise, but not of light. They were pure hurt and pain. They tore him open and cut like a knife, until he wanted to claw his own eyes out.</p><p>He curled up in on himself, just like he could shrink away like that. Become invisible. Just fade. He did not want to feel anymore, or to see or hear… or be.</p><p> </p><p>He did not know when he was asleep because when he was, there was nothing but nightmares, and when he awoke, he was still in them.</p><p>So often he had the iron taste of his blood in his mouth, it seemed there was no other taste left in the world.</p><p>… if only the world still existed. For all he could conceive it might as well end at that steel door.</p><p>Someone had spoken his name… maybe a century ago. After that, there had been nothing but a burning red in his head, that had lasted for days. His voice had called out, but no one had answered. No one had come. Then he had been <em>here</em>, yet since <em>when</em>? For how long?</p><p>And before all of <em>that</em>? What had been <em>there</em>? <em>Then</em>?</p><p>He lay on the hard, cold floor, pressing one palm onto the concrete to make certain he was still alive. But maybe he wasn’t…</p><p>And even <em>if</em> he was, did it matter?</p><p>Did anybody care?</p><p>There were pictures around sometimes and he could not tell anymore if they were memories or just imagination. They wanted to convince him that he had been loved once. That once someone had always come for him. But right <em>now</em>, he was not sure, if that was true.</p><p>He wanted to believe, but he did not know <em>how</em>.</p><p>It felt like … it had just been a tale. Or somebody else’s memory…</p><p><em>‘Akihito’</em>, he thought and tried that name on his lips: “Takaba Akihito.”</p><p>Still there was so much warmth in that idea. It made him close his eyes to keep in the tears because they never gave him much water. He could not shed any to cry over fragments of what might once have been.</p><p>In the darkness however he felt he wanted to tell himself: He is still out there! He will come for you. He <em>was</em> real!</p><p>If the world still existed on the other side of that steel door, then <em>he</em> was in it! He had to be. Because if he wasn’t, then why did time and space even try to go on?</p><p> </p><p>He could not tell. He pressed his palm onto the floor and felt how it pushed back against him, cold and hard, like he was the only being for which the concrete had been built.</p><p>Maybe he was indeed alone in the universe and everything had just been his mind playing tricks on him. But didn’t that mean that maybe he did not even have a mind?</p><p> </p><p>Shouts again. Hands. Words. Kicks. His head hurt. Someone strangled him and the world faded. But if it was not real anymore then that did not seem too bad. How could something, that did not exist, even fade?</p><p>The idea was so paradox. He wanted to laugh about it, but he had forgotten how you did that. It had been too long ago. It had been at some point before he had been brought here, before he had been locked into his nightmare.</p><p>Back then… he had loved. And he had wanted to protect. And he knew that he had managed to do that.</p><p>But it had not helped in the end. <em>Why</em>… and <em>how</em>… and <em>when</em>…, <em>that</em> was what he had forgotten.</p><p>“Asami”, he whispered into the darkness, unsure if his eyes were open or shut because there was no light.</p><p>That name was on his lips now and then. It felt like a promise, like a prayer. But it wasn’t answered.</p><p>Only <em>they</em> came to him. Only <em>they</em> opened the door, and then they ripped him open, tear him apart. He would just let them. If <em>he</em> – Asami – was not out there anymore, if <em>he</em> was not looking for him, then it was all meaningless anyway, wasn’t it? Then he could just lie here dead… like he did so often. Waiting for another eternity to pass. And another. Until he had vanished. Waiting to see if at some point warmth and light and love would find their way back to him.</p><p>He did not believe it anymore…</p><p>He did not know <em>how</em> to believe anymore.</p><p>That verb had become foreign to him.</p><p>Like so many other words…</p><p>And “Asami” on his lips again, like it wanted to slip from them.</p><p>He had believed in Asami. But if he could not <em>believe</em> anymore… then maybe there was also no Asami anymore.</p><p>If he was not loved anymore… then maybe Asami was gone.</p><p>Or he had let him go…</p><p>Or it… <em>he </em>had been a lie.</p><p>A lie…</p><p> </p><p>And all the hurt and fear and darkness was his reality now.</p><p>Or was it his way back to the truth?</p><p>“Akihito”, he whispered.</p><p>“Arata”, he whispered.</p><p>Just consonants and vocals put together, forming a sound that someone had thought should be a name.</p><p>Did it even matter, how he called himself? How someone <em>else</em> called himself?</p><p>When he became one with the bleakness and the cold did the name even hold any meaning?</p><p>If it wasn’t Asami speaking it, did he then need the name <em>‘Akihito’</em> anymore?</p><p>Or had he never had that name before Asami had given it to him?</p><p>He let his hand wander over the floor, but it felt the same anywhere. The name did not matter. And if Asami was not out there anymore, if he had forgotten him, than he did no need it anymore…</p><p>Then he could just take any other.</p><p>A name someone had called him by, who had been kind to him for some seconds of the dark eternity.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Skeeter Davis’ live recording from the 1963 Star Route Show blared from the speakers in an ear-shattering volume, scratches and bad quality included. It had been going for more than three days straight, and the men occupying the basement – which was one of Chernobog’s main bases – felt already like <em>they </em>were the ones being tortured.</p><p>They however could close doors between them and it was some long walk through the narrow corridors until one reached the source of the din. The prisoner however could not flee.</p><p>“Why does the sun go on shining?”, the woman trilled, starting the song all over again for the about 1500<sup>th</sup> time. “Why does the sea rush to shore? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world, cause you don’t love me anymore?”</p><p>Aaron had stayed away in those days. <em>He </em>was the good one. <em>He </em>had nothing to do with any torment besetting the prisoner.</p><p>Nearly four months had passed by now, nearly five since they had fled Macao to their hideout which was furthest away – in Warsaw, Poland. Asami Ryuichi had in the meantime been taken to an altogether different place: his family’s home in the hills above the Croatian city of Dubrovnik, and while he slowly recovered, Aaron’s time was running out.</p><p>Alec had warned him already, that the Japanese was regaining his strength, however slowly. At some point in the near future, he would not need the protection of his brother anymore. He would find a way to get back into contact with his men – no matter how much Maxim would try to prevent that. Then he would leave Dubrovnik and return to Japan – and would slip from Alec’s hands.</p><p>So, <em>if </em>Aaron indeed believed his plan could work, he’d better hurry, his brother kept reminding him with spite and mockery in his voice. In Asami’s absence from Japan, Alec was scratching away the basis for the man’s businesses, that had already been on shaky ground since he had been forced into hiding by Chernobog, while Alec stayed in the shadows completely himself. Now, Asami’s men tried to keep it all up like little children that threw soil into their self-built dam, though the water was seeping through everywhere already.</p><p>But if Asami returned and could get back into business himself, <em>he </em>might be able to just replace the fragile construction his subordinates kept upright with a solid concrete dyke and all the little efforts and triumphs would be for nothing. Then Alec would be left with empty hands, and no matter how much Aaron wished his brother the defeat and disappointment, he did not want the Japanese to win.</p><p>No, <em>he</em> would see him lose what he cared for so much … his little toy. Hell, he did not even mind if the charm he was trying to put on Akihito wouldn’t hold for long, or to what use his brother would put that kid if it all worked out – all he cared for was that he was slowly plucking apart Asami Ryuichi’s little treasure. And once he had, he could hopefully send it back to the man to grieve and despair about. That was <em>his </em>little present. And after that, he did not care anymore. After <em>that </em>his job was done.</p><p>Whistling some odd, happy tune, one of his men now came down the long, dark corridor. He carried two large metal buckets on thin, straining handles, both filled with water – the one nearly boiling hot with steam billowing from it, the other full of ice cubes. He stopped his musical performance, when he saw Aaron, and smiled at him broadly instead.</p><p>“Punctual delivery”, he boomed in Russian, then walked past, stopped in front of the steel door and unlooked it. Inside he took one moment to see where exactly the prisoner lay, then he emptied the buckets above him. First the cold one, then the hot.</p><p>Akihito… Arata screamed in shock and pain, and shuffled around in the small room, like a trapped little animal that wanted to flee into some hole or tried to dig away through the concrete floor.</p><p>“Traitor!”, the man yelled at him, kicking him again and again, until there was hardly any movement left. He even grabbed one of the buckets and smashed it down onto the boy. When he felt he was finished, he yanked the door shut again, pushed his fists into his sides and bowed to Aaron smiling.</p><p>The waiting man gave him an appreciative nod.</p><p>“So, what now? More of Misses World’s End?”, the artist asked, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb towards the wiring that ended in a tiny mp3 player fixed to the wall with tape and powered by a car battery.</p><p>“No… switch the stroboscope and the noise back on. We’ll leave him with that for a few days. After that, I don’t think there will be much left of Takaba Akihito”, Aaron whispered back. There was no chance the prisoner could hear them over the din of the dead singer – or could understand them as they were talking in Russian.</p><p>It just felt nicely conspiratorial to keep his voice down.</p><p>They had been making some headway in recent weeks. Isolation and darkness, deprivation of sleep, hunger and thirst, dirt and reeking, the crampedness of his cell, the lack of anything comfortable, hurt and fear and all lack of knowledge about the time of day… or the day … or even the month. The waiting for whatever might happen next or whenever someone would come to torture him again… all that had taken a toll on the young man.</p><p><em>Of course</em>, it had. It always did. It always worked. At some point <em>everybody</em> broke and their understanding of who or what or when they were was bleached over. Then one could put own ideas into them and replace the person with an artificial one completely.</p><p>It was not even a question of strength or resilience. It was possible with even the most fortified men in the world. To Takaba Akihito Aaron had to salute as a matter of fact. The boy had been keeping up<em> very </em>long.</p><p>But finally… he had become brittle. Just a <em>tiny</em> bit.</p><p>They would have to tear a little longer and then he would crack open and let in whatever they wanted to feed him.</p><p>Already he had started to talk with Aaron – a few questions, a meekly <em>‘thanks’</em> sometimes or some worries that the other might get caught. Now <em>he </em>personified the only kindness and caress the prisoner knew. Maybe even already the only he could remember at this point after weeks in his cell.</p><p>In all that torment the mind just sought shelter for itself, not caring anymore about causalities and memories and what it had believed to be reality beforehand. If there was only <em>one</em> spot of salvation between torture and peril, then <em>that </em>was to where it turned. And for Akihito that was Aaron… only that if he wanted Aaron to safe him, he needed to be Arata. And his mind was slowly comprehending this, pushing away the protest of the character and all inconsistencies with any knowledge and remembrance.</p><p>Just a tiny bit more… a few days of noise and flashlights, of torment and shouts and kicks and fists, and the boy in the cell would be a blank blackboard for him to write on.</p><p><em>Yes</em>, at some point memory and character would return. Akihito would regain himself… but the better Aaron pushed in there, the longer it would take. The longer Arata would stay.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shaking and trembling the boy was cuddled in his embrace. Cold as ice and barely conscious. His hands clung to the arms of the very man who was orchestrating all this torment for him.</p><p>The irony had Aaron fight not to laugh out loud.</p><p>Like a snake the end of the hose still lay in the corner of the cell. They had fixed one tube to the next, spanning all the way down through the long corridors of the basement, and they had made sure that the pump, which forced the chilling water down here was a very strong one. It made all the tedious carrying of buckets unnecessary.</p><p>Three times they had nearly drowned their prisoner in the torrent gusting out onto him, while they had laughed at him and called him a traitor.</p><p>“Please”, he whispered now, his voice so weak like the faint light of a dying firefly. “No more.” It trembled as much as the boy it. He was so light, so frail, so unsubstantial. Maybe if Aaron breathed out too strongly or sighed too deeply, he would just dispel and vanish. Like dead leaves got scattered by the wind.</p><p>“I will get you out of here, I promise”, Aaron answered, quietly, warmly, caringly. He rocked softly from side to side, swaying the other in his arms.</p><p>“When?”, the question was drowned in a sob of pain and fear.</p><p>It was wet all around still. Water had gathered in small puddles on the uneven concrete floor and was dripping and running off the walls just like it drained out of the hair of the prisoner and out of his ragged, torn clothes. Nonetheless Aaron could feel the tears streaming down the young man’s cheek now. They wet his sleeves.</p><p>Aaron bit his lips. “I… don’t know”, he breathed in desperation. “It is dangerous, Arata. I don’t know… if”, he broke off. He looked to the ceiling. He pulled the other tighter into his arms without hurting him.</p><p>“I… need to know that you will not endanger us <em>both</em>. I can’t take you out of here, as long as you might try and get back to the enemy. He would kill us both.”</p><p>He even managed to let his lips tremble. Alec had been good at that as a child. Whenever he had done something wrong, he stepped in front of their parents like he was the very epitome of shame and unhappiness and sorrow – and they had just let it slip. Even if he had never apologized. Even if whatever he had done, he had done before and would do again.</p><p>Aaron however had not played with tricks. He had simply apologized and felt sorry. It had never been enough.</p><p>“I…”, the prisoner whispered, his voice a bit higher now, his fingers tugging harder on Aaron’s arms. “…that is my name, right? Arata?”</p><p>With a gasp the Russian looked down upon him, his eyes wide like those of a father in rapture about finding his child save and unhurt after a catastrophe. <em>Oh, the bliss!</em></p><p>“Yes! <em>Yes!”,</em> he chimed. “Do you remember <em>now</em>? Arata, do you remember?”</p><p>“…Mayb… <em>yes</em>… I think I…”</p><p>The boy fell silent and his head rested against Aaron’s chest.</p><p>“Please… don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me alone”, he whined after a long while, in which he was just held tight in warmth and comfort.</p><p>“I won’t. I promise, I will get you out of here, Arata. Just trust me. You can always trust me. I will never let you down. I will protect you from now on.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(Just a short note: This is slowly turning towards Akihito falling for Aaron's tricks and therefore also for Aaron. If you don't want to read something like that, I can only advice you to stop now. <br/>And please, before you tell me that Akihito would never ever betray Asami or anything, try to think of this of not being Akihito at all. It is his body, yes, but at this point of the story he is not himself. His own personality is save and sound somewhere hidden inside him, to keep save from the fear and hurt. What he is doing and how he is behaving, that is a defence mechanism. And there have been men better trained and more up to all the cruelty who have succumbed to less than he has been through.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the dead of the night, when Aaron quietly pulled open the steel door, but the prisoner would not be able to tell the time anyway.</p><p>He stepped inside, allowed the door to close behind him and then switched on a small flashlight.</p><p>The young man sat in one corner of the tiny room, knees pulled up to his chest, back pressed against the wall as if he wanted to squeeze into it. Yet if the door had been yanked open by force and accompanied with shouts and curses, then he would lie there, huddling himself into a small ball – just like a hedgehog, only that he had no spikes to protect himself. Whenever the door was opened <em>softly</em> however, he had come to expect Aaron. And like always he was not being disappointed.</p><p>In front of the prisoner, the Russian crouched down, shielding the flashlight with a hand, to not allow it to hurt the other’s eyes.</p><p>“I need you to be very quiet, Arata”, he whispered, looking deep into young man’s eyes.</p><p>“We’re leaving now. I am taking you out of here, but I need you to be quiet. If they catch us, I might not be able to protect you. I don’t know what they might do to you. Or to me.”</p><p>For a few moments he let his words sink in. Huge, scared eyes just stared up at him, hardly blinking. There were bruises all of the other’s face and the parts of his body that the ragged and torn pajama did not hide anymore. He was dirty and he stank, and his hair that had grown back since they had taken him out of the hospital was a matted mess.</p><p>Then the boy nodded. “Ok”, he whispered back. “I’ll be all quiet. Just take me out of here, please.”</p><p>Aaron got back up, moving slowly and cautious all the time. He reached down with one hand to help the prisoner onto his feed, and that hand was only faintly grabbed by cold, weak fingers. He tried to pull Arata up, but those knees did not give any support. Then again, he weighed hardly anything at this point, after months with little food. Aaron caught him, before he fell back down to the ground, and cradled him in his arms.</p><p>“I’m sorry”, Arata whined.</p><p>“It’s alright. I’ve got you”, the Russian answered and picked him up.</p><p>Through long, empty corridors he carried him into one of the parts of the basement that had not been used in more than a decade. Dust and dirt and the leftovers of what small animals had brought in here decorated every surface. It stank of mold and dampness and feces. Into these parts of the building no one of Chernobog ever came – and that they had to stay away from there <em>this</em> night, they had been told very strictly.</p><p>In the farthest corner of the old warehouse’s basement, Aaron carried the boy, who was clawing at his clothes as if he was afraid to fall, unto some old, creaking wooden structure. Many, many years ago this had very likely been used to store whatever the factory and warehouse had been used for to produce. But today there was nothing of it left. Up there however the windows were easy to reach.</p><p>Beneath one of them he tried to set Arata down onto the wooden planks, yet those fingers did not let go of his jacket.</p><p>Soothing he spoke to the other, cupping his cheeks with his own warm hands.</p><p>“Arata, you need to let go. I will be right back. No one will find you here. I will open the window and go outside. I will pull you out from there. I might not fit through there, but <em>you</em> will. Please… Arata… please let go.”</p><p>There was quite some persuasion needed until those fingers finally let go.</p><p>“Don’t leave me”, the young man cried, tears shimmering in his eyes, so Aaron patted his head lightly.</p><p>“I will be back in a moment, I promise. I have to get out through an entrance where someone might see me. No one will care if I walk out alone, but I can’t take you that way. And I won’t fit through that window. I will be right back. I promise. You trust me, right, Arata?”</p><p>The boy had grabbed his wrists with all the strength he was still able to muster, but then he nodded and finally let got.</p><p>“Please don’t leave me”, he begged, nonetheless.</p><p>“Just close your eyes”, Aaron whispered with an ensuring little smile. “I will be right away.”</p><p>And then he breathed a kiss on the dirty forehead of the other, even before he had been aware what he was doing. It startled him himself. <em>Oh… he was getting really good at his!</em></p><p> </p><p>It took him about 4 minutes to get back and up some staircase that the prisoner had never gotten to see. There was no real need for all of this. He could have walked with Akihito in his arms through the front door and his men would have grinned at him and the next step of his plan. He might even have squeezed through that window, but it would have gotten his clothes dirty and maybe torn them, and he wanted to look dazzling and bright and clean.</p><p>At the end, it was all just for show – and another test.</p><p>Outside the window he waited for another minute, listening to his surrounding and to any noise from inside.</p><p>There was some owl hooting very far away in the forests that engulfed and hemmed in the grounds of the factory and warehouse on all sides. This property lay in an eastern suburb of Warsaw where you could still find unpaved roads and derelict buildings while the 1000-year-old city was becoming more modern by the day. Somewhere an animal, a racoon maybe, or some rats, scurried through the wild, uncut grass that grew everywhere – even in the narrow gaps of the concrete loading ramp and driveway.</p><p>From inside the building however there was not the tiniest noise to be heard.</p><p>Akihito had passed the test: He had not run, he had not screamed, he had not tried to get away himself. He still sat exactly where Aaron had left him, and when he heard his new name, he answered in a hush right away.</p><p>Reaching inside, the Russian grabbed his hand, then pulled him up and out through the window that was just some inches above ground level. Once he was outside, Arata fell into his arms again, huddled in on himself and clawed at his jacket.</p><p>For a few moments, Aaron just let him. He looked up to the night sky above them, which was darkened by clouds that promised rain, and rocked the young man on his lap. Once again, that one was shaking heavily. Slowly however the tremors subsided.</p><p>Then Aaron picked him up again and carried him over to one car – an old, brown Mercedes limousine – that had been parked somewhat off and away from the other vehicles Chernobog had brought here.</p><p>On the backseat he placed the young man and pulled a nice, soft, clean, warm blanket over him, before he got into the driver’s seat himself. And <em>thus</em>, they left the prison the other had been in for about four months.</p><p>The real prison however was still there.</p><p>Aaron congratulated himself. His plan was working fine, and he would just fortify it a bit more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They flew through the nights of Warsaw for nearly forty hours to the other side of the city, while the rain set in and let the streetlights wash down the windows. Not once did the boy on the backseat raise his head, not one syllable did he mutter.</p><p>In the inner yard of a block of old, tall buildings Aaron finally parked the car. The whole row of houses around had been bought by an investment firm some months ago which had started to strip down the buildings to their core – presumably to erect expensive lofts inside and sell them for dizzying prizes. But, that company had suddenly found itself involved in some tax fraught, and by now the managers had either left the country or were biding their time in pending investigation. In the wake of all of that, the property had been placed in the hands of some small company that was simply supposed to take care of everything – as that it would not fall into ruin. This area of the city was slowly becoming a very expensive one and not any of the neighbors or investors around wanted an eyesore in their sight.</p><p>That managing company however happened to be a front firm owned by Alec – not that his name would ever be found on any paper or in any document. All the same it meant that Aaron could use the buildings and could prevent anybody else from sticking their noses in.</p><p>Through the downpour he carried the limp body to the back-entrance of the prettiest building: One more than a 120-years-old seven-story house on which some of the Art Nouveau elements had outlasted the abasement brought upon by the Warsaw Pact’s disrespect towards anything old and beautiful.</p><p>All the way up to the top floor he climbed with the boy now named Arata in his arms, and he only had to free one hand, still balancing his cargo, to unlock the door to the apartment up there and open it.</p><p>The flat behind was stripped to the brick walls, and the inner separations between what had once been several rooms had all been emptied so that now only the wood structures remained. The bathroom alone was still intact – though many tiles had already been broken from the walls.</p><p>In the last days however, Aaron had made sure that the area was clean and tidy. All dust and residue from the construction work had been cleared out, the bathroom’s furniture had been scrubbed, the windows wiped. A fridge and a bed had been brought up, a table, some chairs, a large sofa, linens and towels and boxes with clothes and food and whatever else one needed to make a living up here for at least some days.</p><p>With the boy still wrapped in the blanked, Aaron walked right through to the bathroom. He placed his freight cautiously into the bathtub, which was sparkling clean just like the rest, but once again, Arata did not let go of his arm. He had his eyes squeezed shut and seemed not to breath, until Aaron stroked his hair and whispered to him.</p><p>“It is alright. Don’t be afraid. It is over.”</p><p>Only then, with warm hands gently setting him upright, did the young man finally let go.</p><p>He opened it eyes, blinking against the friendly light from the ceiling. There was an opened window though which some soft breeze was finding its way inside, but the shutter outside had been bolted… Aaron’s guest should be allowed to open the windows and think of himself as being free. Yet the shutters – he would tell him – needed to be fixed. They were broken and could not be moved. It was just <em>too</em> dangerous. Somebody down on the street could get hurt by falling debris.</p><p>For a moment Aaron just sat there, looking the other up and down, who had once again tugged his knees to his chest and now gazed blankly ahead like a deer that tried to stare down the lights of an approaching car.</p><p>“Would you like to take a bath?”, Aaron asked quietly. It made the other flinch, nonetheless.</p><p>A hardly visible shaking of the head was the only answer.</p><p>“You should…”, the Russian contradicted. <em>Man, the boy stunk!</em> And he was covered in dirt all over. Aaron wondered if he would have to peel the pajama from his skin. But he could not use any force. Not even patronizing persuasion. <em>He </em>was the good one. The gentle one.</p><p>He laid a steady, encouraging hand onto the other’s shoulder and the slight shiver, that had been running up and down that frail body once more, stopped.</p><p>“The water will be warm and soft. It won’t burn you. You will not freeze. You will be washed clean and all of that bad memory will be swept away. You will get out of here as if you were reborn. And then you can sleep, cuddled in a bed. And no one will disturb you. No one will touch you. And no one will ever hurt you. I promise.”</p><p>Arata tug his head a bit lower between his shoulders, yet his eyes now looked up at the other.</p><p>His lower lip trembled a moment, then he nodded – ever so slightly.</p><p>“Good”, Aaron hummed. “Very good.”</p><p>He stood up, but his arm was caught. He nearly tumbled over.</p><p>“Don’t <em>go</em>!”, Arata shrieked in desperation. The boy had darted upwards from the bathtub and clung to the man with all his light weight and strength.</p><p>“Ok! Ok!”, Aaron promised, sinking down onto his knees besides the tub again.</p><p>He had wanted to give the kid time to come to terms with himself – switch on the water for himself; get naked, when he was ready to. But now he realized that that was not going to happen.</p><p><em>He </em>would have to do it. Because <em>he </em>was the good one.</p><p>And so, he did. Gingerly he caressed the black shirt down those shivering arms and let it fall onto the floor where it was out of view. Then he helped Arata out of the trousers. The stink only increased because of that. Now there were two sources: the filthy clothes and the filthy boy.</p><p>Only moving away, a tiny bit, he took the shower head and held it onto his own wrist to check the water’s temperature. Plumbing, electricity and heating were very luckily still intact in the whole complex of buildings – one of the reasons why Aaron had chosen this place. When he was sure that the temperature was just right, he turned back to the other, who sat there as before: like a frightened animal hugging itself. He was frail and bruised all over,… <em>and the dirt!</em></p><p>Aaron let the first drops of water spill over the boy’s toes and the animal flinched away, staring at the man frightened for one second. But that instant passed, and after it he allowed himself to be washed. He allowed the hands of the man to touch every bit of him; He even leaned into them, seeking their warmth and comfort and strength.</p><p>There were some sighs now and then, and soon Arata’s eyes were closed.</p><p>After the dirt had been washed away, Aaron put the plug into the outlet, added some bathing salt and let the tub fill. The young man sank into the warm, loving water, finally letting go of his knees, finally relaxing. He leaned his head against a towel which Aaron gave him to feel even more comfortable, while the Russian tenderly washed his hair, again and again. He even applied some conditioner and treatments and let it all soak in, never moving away for more than a step, because that would make the other look up in fear and distress.</p><p>“I will not leave you”, Aaron promised again and again.</p><p>And Arata believed it.</p><p>It became indeed his only religion.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>This chapter contains a sex scene between Aaron and Arata (Akihito). If you don't want to read that, I have marked the point where to stop reading at latest with (XX).</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For several days Arata did hardly anything but sleep. He lay between the thick, soft bedding, breathing slowly and deeply, dressed in a new, white pajama made of silk. Sometimes Aaron attached an I.V. to his arm, which was supposed to help the young main regain his strength and deal with the physical impact of his long captivity. That there was as well some Rohypnol in those infusions Aaron stored in the fridge the patient of course never found out.</p>
<p>The drug calmed him down, made him relaxed and fought whatever anxiety he might experience. Nonetheless, Aaron was not allowed to ever let the apartment fall into complete darkness. At day the sun would shine through the gaps in the window shutters – but Arata would sleep perfectly well– and at night there always needed to remain one lamp switched on.</p>
<p>Eating was the greatest problem for a while. Even though Aaron had gotten soups and easily digestible food like applesauce, rusk and crackers, Arata felt ill for several days and threw up the dishes more than once. <em>That</em> however was just another good reason to provide him with an I.V. which indeed contained some treatments against malnutrition.</p>
<p>In the second week he slowly started to regain his strength. He kept wandering around the apartment slowly and on shaky legs, and Aaron could even leave him alone two times to get new supplies. When he arrived back, Arata seemed as happy and relieved to see him like a dog that had been alone for half a day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sometimes however at night, Aaron would wake up on the sofa on which he slept and hear the other sob. Then he got up and walked over, sat down at the side of the bed, and the boy would cuddle up onto his lap and hug him around the waist, and the Russian would stroke his hair with inexpert fingers.</p>
<p>Tenderness had <em>never </em>come easy to him. He had been able to play it in the dark of a cell where most of his face lay in shadows and only his words needed to be believed. All of that had also just been promises he had anticipated having to mutter and little, planned touches. Nonetheless it had let the prisoner slip into his hands.</p>
<p>Now <em>however</em>, he could hardly close a door between himself and the other. He had no chance to deliberate which step to take next or which words to whisper and swear. He could not limit their contact anymore but had to be there whenever he was needed: Often. Very often.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Like <em>this</em> night. He lay on the sofa long after midnight and had dreamed of some shadowy figures that might once have been in his memories. Yet now he had forgotten them, and they vanished from his mind as quickly as reality floated in.</p>
<p>There was the sobbing again. He did not react for a while, just listened. But when it had not stopped after about two minutes, he knew he had to go. Not rushing to comfort the other could be perceived as a broken promise.</p>
<p>Lazily he got up, leaving the blanket behind.</p>
<p>At the side of the bed, he sat down as always, and let his fingers wander through the by now long streaks of the boy’s hair. It had regrown rather quickly.</p>
<p>“It’s alright”, he whispered.</p>
<p>A hushed “yes”, was the answer. Arata freed himself out of the bedding and laid his head unto the Russian’s lap.</p>
<p>“Did you have a bad dream?”</p>
<p>A slight nod he could feel, while the arms of the other hugged him tightly around the waist.</p>
<p>“It’s alright, Arata. No one will hurt you. I promise.”</p>
<p>A nod again. Then silence for a long while. At some point, he was sure that the boy had fallen asleep, yet when he looked down, his huge eyes were still open and stared off into the dusk of the nightly apartment.</p>
<p>It was hard to do that from this position – sitting upright with the boy on his lap – but Aaron leaned down, bending his back, and managed to place a little kiss on the cheek of the other.</p>
<p>Blinking slowly Arata looked up. It seemed like some tears had just dried in his eyes. They were huge and shiny, but there were no traces of wetness on his cheeks and Aaron did not feel any drops on his naked legs or the black shorts he wore.</p>
<p>“You will protect me, right, Aaron?”, the young man asked.</p>
<p>“Yes, I will, Arata. I will always protect you. I will keep you save.” He smiled. In situations like these he could only do what came to his mind quickest. He would have liked to call it intuition, yet he was not sure if in terms of tenderness he had any. His parents had never treated him with much kindness, nor had his own twin. His world had been a raw, dark one from the start and he had become raw and dark in it himself, simply by surviving.</p>
<p>Still, if there was no way of considering the best reaction to whatever the boy did or said because he had no time for that, and if it was not learned empathy by experiencing being comforted and cared for ever himself – then what was it?</p>
<p>Didn’t it amount to intuition in the end, because there was nothing else that could help him in these situations? Had he maybe despite everything still some kind of good-hearted core inside himself? Some tiny bit that might be capable of giving comfort and support, maybe even love?</p>
<p>He doubted it.</p>
<p>The eyes of the boy looking up to him now however begged to differ.</p>
<p>Suddenly Arata got up, knelt onto the side of the bed just next to him and planted a kiss onto his lips. He remained like this, his mouth pursed to reach the other’s, his eyes open to witness the reaction, one hand propped onto the bed, the other onto the Russian’s lap.</p>
<p><em>‘What?’</em>, Aaron heard himself think and almost the word had slipped from his mind out through his throat. But he caught it, swallowed it and just looked at the other.</p>
<p>Staring at him with those huge eyes, Arata leaned back a little bit. His gaze wandered up and down along the body of the other man, who wore only those black shorts and a sleeveless black shirt, while the boy was still clad in that white, silken pajama.</p>
<p>“No?”, he asked so quietly that Aaron had to read the word from his lips. Arata seemed scared and disappointed all of a sudden.</p>
<p><em>‘Fuck!’</em>, was the only follow-up his mind threw at Aaron, but he stroked the young man’s cheek with the back of his hand, nonetheless. Those huge, shiny eyes blinked slowly, long lashes flattering. Then he leaned in again and pressed his mouth tightly onto the Russians. Aaron felt a tongue licking his lips, pushing against them, and he finally allowed it inside. Instantly the boy threw himself at him, hands clinging to his shoulders, body crawling unto his lap. He put one arm around the waist of the other softly, unknowing how to handle this situation.</p>
<p>The best, he realized, was to just let the other determine on what was to happen – and <em>he</em> did.</p>
<p>
  <b>(XX)</b>
</p>
<p>Before long Aaron found himself shoved backwards against the head end of the bed by the weight of the young man pushing against him. Arata grabbed his hands and placed them beneath the pajama on his own skin. With needy, little sighs he leaned into the touch of Aaron’s fingers and even pushed them up and pinched them around his own nipples.</p>
<p>For a while the kiss did not break and the little gasps and moans coming out of the boy’s throat all swept over the Russian’s lips. Then suddenly the mouth was gone from his own and the young man started to kiss his face, placing many little, warm pecks up and down on the scar stretching over his eye.</p>
<p>Aaron let all of that happen to himself. He fondled the boy, where his hands had been placed and the skin of the other burned beneath his fingers. He even leaned in to kiss his neck, when an arm slung around his shoulders and pulled him close.</p>
<p>He was not keen on any of this, but if <em>that</em> was what was needed to turn this kid into his puppet, then he was fine with it. He did not mind.</p>
<p>Still, he was taken by surprise when Arata suddenly pushed a hand down his shorts and grabbed his cock. He could feel it twitch into the warm palm and found himself gasp at the sensation.</p>
<p>He was not gay. Not even bisexual. When he fucked, then it were pretty girls sprawling in front of him who took him for a bad guy like in a stupid Hollywood movie and would let him do anything to them. <em>Anything</em>.</p>
<p>That did not mean that he was not willing to do whatever it took when it was needed to perfect his job. He was a professional.</p>
<p>On Chernobog’s cargo ship months ago he had had one little idea and had not felt ashamed or offended with his sexuality or manliness the tiniest bit when it had sprung to his mind: Mikhail Arbatov had handed over his weapon willingly and had come along, voluntarily becoming their hostage. He had done so, do save that Chinese cunt, who had not screamed once when Aaron had beaten him hours before. Back <em>then</em>, he had thought it would be a pretty nice way of getting back at both at the same time: To make Mikhail spill his knowledge by raping that sissy bastard in front of him. Aaron would have loved to make the other Russian having to listen to the Chinese’s moans and his begging for more.</p>
<p>But Yuri had been as opposed to what he called <em>‘homo-shit’ </em>as one could ever be, and therefore Aaron had let the idea slip from his mind unmentioned.</p>
<p>Well, <em>no</em>, he was no homo. But if fucking a man got him to his goal quicker, where was the hurt in that? Especially when that man looked like a woman anyway. He could have just grabbed the Chinese at his black hair and could have ridden him from behind, without thinking about him being male.</p>
<p>And <em>now</em>… that boy on his lap obviously knew very well what to do with a cock quivering in his hands. With slow strokes he worked it up and down. Also, he seemed to know exactly what he wanted <em>himself</em> – or what he believed to want. Aaron had no idea if this was conditioning or training, if it was the young man’s understanding of showing gratitude or the best way he knew to find comfort – not that he cared. He just played along with what the Japanese did to him and with him and with himself.</p>
<p>Then the boy abruptly got up. He tossed his clothes away and already he climbed onto the bed with all fours, presenting his back to the Russian still sitting there.</p>
<p>Fingers which he had been shoving into his mouth for a while, he now pushed into the tiny, tight opening of his ass, looking back at the other and biting his tongue.</p>
<p>“Please”, he whispered breathless and hoarse. “Please!”</p>
<p>Two fingers in there it were in an instant, a third added just a moment later. They twisted and pulled on his entrance, and Arata leaned forward until he lay with his shoulders and chest on the bed. Still, he looked back at Aaron who had not moved an inch, who just watched, thinking… and admiring indeed what was introduced to his eyes there.</p>
<p>Snatching the fingers out of himself, the boy pulled his cheeks apart to lay everything bare to the man’s view.</p>
<p>“Please!”, he croaked again, shivering and trembling.</p>
<p>And Aaron could not conceal from himself that his cock was hard and wanting. His own breath had become ragged, his chest and abdomen burned on the inside.</p>
<p>He pushed himself up, knelt onto the bed behind the boy and allowed his dick to slide along the narrow crack of the small ass presented to him.</p>
<p>This was Asami Ryuichi’s property. <em>His</em> body to take, <em>his</em> hole to fuck. But right <em>now</em>, it was there to be used by no one else but Aaron. And the boy that once listened to the name Takaba Akihito even begged for it. He was a pretty boy as well.</p>
<p>Grabbing a hold of his cock, the Russian aligned it with the tight opening and ever so slightly pushed against it, until the muscle opened up the tiniest bit and the slickness squeezing out of his dick’s head wet the entrance.</p>
<p>“Please, Aaron”, Arata begged.</p>
<p>So, Aaron shoved himself in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>This chapter contains mentions of some sex scenes between Aaron and Arata (Akihito). If you don't want to read that, I have marked the point from where you can start reading again with (XX). Just skip the beginning until you find the (XX) in between.</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The camera was hidden up on one of the wooden structures which had once been a wall inside the apartment and now looked like the skeleton of a half-timbered house. Aaron had made sure that the quality of the video and sound of the tiny device was very good, and that the recording went right to a cloud service to be stored safely away just in case the boy would find the spy up there and smash it.</p>
<p>Yet from all that Aaron could tell, the other trusted him fully and in everything – and with every inch of his body.</p>
<p>The video would be <em>very</em> useful. Firstly because would have to show evidence to his brother, to prove the success of his plan – an idea that he was not too happy about as he just simply did not like to present himself to his twin like that. But that way he would also win their bet, and whatever Alec would have in mind with Aaron’s masterpiece after that, it would be to harm the Japanese bastard.</p>
<p>Secondly<em>, this</em> video would of course hurt the man just as much. The imagination alone that one day Asami Ryuichi would see <em>this </em>made Aaron’s cock twitch in the boy’s mouth and had him nearly cum. But he closed his eyes, bit his lip and could hold back.</p>
<p>Arata was in the meantime keen on sucking him off. The kid knew very well what to do and how to make a man happy. He had been trained perfectly. His tongue worked the thick, hot meat in his mouth, while he pumped it with his hands and shoved it so deep into his throat as Aaron had never experienced before.</p>
<p>A long while ago Sakazaki had shown him a picture of Takaba Akihito sucking his dick, but the Japanese had had to admit that he had pressured the young man into doing it. Aaron had not. Not really. Because <em>Arata</em> wanted this!</p>
<p>He grabbed the boy by the back of his head and even <em>that</em> he seemed to like. With red cheeks and glowing eyes, he looked up at the Russian, and the man could not keep himself together anymore. To the last drop the youth sucked him dry.</p>
<p>Then he lay on Aaron’s lap for a while in which he kissed and licked his balls, waiting for his dick to get stiff again. Once it was, he climbed on top of him and pushed the meat inside his cunt. Feverishly he started to ride it instantly, and leaned forward to kiss the man’s face, the scar on the side of his head, the tattoos decorating his body. He even licked and bit his nipples, while Aaron grabbed his tiny ass and pulled it wide just so the camera would have a better look at all the action.</p>
<p>There was a compilation of videos like this already. The best had been shot two nights ago, when the kid had straddled him as well but had turned his back to the man. Propped with both hands onto the Russian’s shins, he had arched his back while bouncing up and down on the thick pole. Momentarily Aaron had feared that this way Arata would be able to spot the camera looking down upon them, because his face was turned towards it completely. But all the time his eyes had remained shut, his cheeks red and puffy, his lips parted in complete bliss about what he did to himself.</p>
<p>If Asami ever got to see <em>that </em>video, he would not only witness how his cunt-boy enjoyed riding another man; he would also <em>hear</em> it, for Arata had exclaimed again and again how much he loved Aaron, how much he loved his cock, and how much he loved being stuffed by that cock.</p>
<p>Now he slammed himself down again and the Russian helped him with it.</p>
<p>“Yes!”, Arata hissed, sitting upright, arching his back once more.</p>
<p>“Fuck me! Aaron! Fuck me!” he begged, before he leaned back even further until his own dick pointed to the ceiling. Then he came with a loud scream and shot his load all over his tummy and chest and even up to his chin. <em>That</em> the camera would have caught as well, and imagining Asami Ryuichi seeing it one day, let Aaron slam that ass hard onto his crotch and shoot his cream deep into the boy’s hole.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>(XX)</b>
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<p>“Switch it off!”, Alec barked in abhorrence. He had already turned his eyes away and Aaron had leveled the volume to zero after the first declaration of love by the boy pumped by him in the video.</p>
<p>“I believe you already. <em>Good job</em>”, Alec murmured after only seeing 30 seconds of nearly one hour of porn. In his voice there could be heard nothing but annoyance, disgust and anger. But Aaron knew that <em>most</em> of that was due to the fact of him losing their bet. Alec had always been rather versatile when it came to sex and was not delicately strung. He just – more than anything else in the world – hated to lose, especially to his brother.</p>
<p>He slumped into the backseat of the car and looked sullen for a moment, in which Aaron put his phone away with which he had presented his efforts of the last days - and the evidence of the boy's <em>affection</em> towards him. The next time he looked up a nasty smile disfigured the face of his oh-so-handsome brother.</p>
<p>“Now Roro, just imagine your little toy there going all Basic Instinct on our dear Ryuichi.”</p>
<p>Alec hugged himself with his arms and swayed from side to side in pure joy and anticipation.</p>
<p>“Huh?”, the other asked, turning halfway around in the driver’s seat of the old Mercedes. The tale was that he was getting more supplies while Arata waited patiently – and he would. But he also had picked his brother up in the city and had driven with him onto the large parking lot of a shopping mall. There were so many people around, that nobody cared about anybody.</p>
<p>The smile on Alec’s face broadened even more when he sighed in a high tune. “Akihito bouncing on Asami’s cock like the little slut he is, but then he pulls a knife and slams it into the man’s chest again and again and <em>again</em>.”</p>
<p>Aaron felt his dick twitch. He had the feeling that all of this was getting to him in a way and knew already that come next night, he would need to ride that kid yet again. He was kind of aware that what the boy actually craved was Asami Ryuichi beneath and inside him – only that Arata did not remember that. And <em>that</em> knowledge forced even more heat down into Aaron’s groin.</p>
<p>“You think you can get him to do <em>that</em>? Work for us that way?”, Alec asked, though his brother had turned away and watched some family with noisy children quarrel about which sweets to open and eat first even before they had been laden from the shopping cart into the car.</p>
<p>“Do you think you can get your little doll to play that Japanese bastard’s whore again? And then try and kill the man for us?”</p>
<p>Aaron shrugged. It was a good idea. A lovely one, indeed. He just wasn’t sure it would work. They were dealing with Asami Ryuichi after all.</p>
<p>“I have no idea if he’d be capable of that. I guess I could convince him to do it… or make him think that he wants to do it. But I don’t think he’ll be able to actually pull it off. It’s not like Asami will just lie there and take it.”</p>
<p>“Even <em>so</em>”, it was Alec’s turn to shrug now. “It will break his fucking heart. Maxim keeps telling me how his brother is getting restless. It won’t be long until Ryuichi will quit listening to the pleas of the man who claims that he is just protecting him. I can’t have him return to Japan, but sooner or later he will find a way to do so.”</p>
<p>Alec turned towards the window. A young woman with curly black hair and a pretty short skirt caught his attention and his gaze followed her until she had vanished between the cars. “I’ve been in and out of Maxim’s house all those months, but Ryuichi never saw me. He’s been confined to his room most of the time. He was even hardly able to walk. But that’s getting better as well, as I am told. But I could get in there and meet him… and make sure he found out about Akihito being here – by way of some detours of course.”</p>
<p>Aaron adjusted the rear mirror to look at his brother. “And what tells you that he won’t just smack the boy around the head and drag him off to Japan at once?”</p>
<p>The other looked back, grinning, and tug one eyebrow up. “Because I will be there as well. And I will make sure, that he knows his brother’s place to be the only save spot he can take that cunt to turn him back into his old self.”</p>
<p>“And what if Akihito <em>does</em> manage to kill him?”, Aaron snarled.</p>
<p>“So <em>what</em>? Then let the world know that the great Asami Ryuichi was murdered while fucking a boy-whore up the ass.” He laughed out loud at the idea, then looked at his twin’s face reflected in the mirror again.</p>
<p>“You know, Roro: One of these days I still might get proud of you.”</p>
<p>“Fuck off!”, Aaron barked, tore the key out of the ignition and got out of the old car. Alec cranked the window down behind him.</p>
<p>“Hey? Where are you going, brother?”, he shouted, his amusement clear in his voice.</p>
<p>“Shopping!”, he got as an answer without the other pausing or turning around.</p>
<p>“And what am I supposed to do?”</p>
<p>“Wait! You’re famous for your patience, aren’t you?”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
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    <p>The boy lay half on top of him, sweat drying between their naked bodies, chests still heaving against each other. While time passed and the night slowly settled outside the windows of the top floor apartment, Aaron stared at the ceiling and listened to the breathing of the other cuddling at his side.</p><p> He knew what to do. He knew how to do it.</p><p>But somehow the warmth of the body next to his and the tenderness of that skin nestling against his own made him hesitate.</p><p>At some point he fell asleep, the last step of his work still not accomplished, and only awoke when the light of the early June morning seeped in through the gaps in the shutters already.</p><p>With a sigh he moved and so did the young man at his side. Smiling Arata looked up from where he still lay, as if he had not moved an inch the whole night.</p><p>Aaron smiled back, before he knew it. But then he sat up. There was no time for pretending to himself that he liked hugging and cuddling. He didn’t need it. Nor did he want it. He never had.</p><p>With the back to the other he remained seated on the side of the bed, leaned his elbows onto his knees and propped his face into his hands.</p><p>“Is everything alright?”, Arata asked. For some reason that Aaron did not understand his voice was a tiny notch higher than he thought Akihito’s had been.</p><p>Hard he swallowed and recalled the new lies he had spun.</p><p>“They found us. My men…”</p><p>The boy behind him stopped his breathing with a frightened gasp.</p><p>“They contacted me two days ago. I did not tell you because I didn’t want to frighten you. I want to protect you, Arata, but they will not let us go. They…”</p><p>He broke off and let his head fall even heavier into his hands, letting his shoulders sink.</p><p>Silence spread for a while, until there was a shudder behind him. Suddenly warm arms wrapped around his naked chest.</p><p>“I don’t care, as long as I am with you”, Arata whispered. <em>‘Sweet lies’</em>, Aaron thought.</p><p>“I know… In want to get us out of here. But they will not let us go. There is only… only one…”, he broke off again and waited for the other to pull him even closer into the embrace and ask: “Only one <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“Only <em>one </em>chance for us, they say. If we get rid of Asami Ryuichi… if you prove that you will not sell us to him, that you are loyal to us… to me - then they will allow us to leave in peace.”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>”, Arata hummed. His chin rested on Aaron’s shoulder now and he raised a hand to pat the boy’s head.</p><p>“They think you could get close to him, still. You were the only one who ever managed, but at what price, Arata? I cannot allow that. I <em>will</em> not allow that!”</p><p>The Japanese’s hair was really soft between his fingers. <em>‘Kind of nice…’</em>, he thought.</p><p>It took another long while for Arata to answer, and Aaron just waited. When the boy finally spoke again, it was hard for the Russian not to laugh. <em>Stupid kid!</em> He could probably ask him to jump from the seventh floor right now and he would do it.</p><p>“Maybe I still <em>can </em>do that. For you and me?”</p><p>“No!”, Aaron shot back in disbelieve and irritation. “No! Arata, I can’t allow that. I will find another way… There must be another way…”</p><p>The young man kissed him on the cheekbone, right there where the scar ran down along his face.</p><p>“I can play <em>being</em>… that… person again. Can’t I? He would not brainwash me now into believing I was him. It would be the other way around, right? I would make <em>him </em>believe that <em>I </em>still believed him.”</p><p>Aaron turned half around. With strong hands he grabbed the other by the shoulders, fear and desperation <em>oh</em> <em>so </em>showing clearly on his face – a perfect act, he congratulated himself.</p><p>“I will not allow that, Arata. I can’t! I can’t lose you again”, he hissed, but the boy simply blinked at him slowly and reassuringly.</p><p>“I <em>know</em> I can do that. You have saved me, Aaron. Now <em>I</em> can save us. I can prove to your men, that you were right to believe in me. I can get close to that guy if only I meet him, and then I can…”, he broke off and his next blinking was less confident.</p><p>The Russian pulled him into his arms and held him tight. “You would have to… maybe you would have to sleep with him, to… <em>No!</em> I can’t allow that, Arata. I will not allow him to touch you. He hurt you so much. He hurt me. He must pay for all of it, but-“</p><p>“Stop!”, the young man shouted and tore loose from the arms engulfing him. He grabbed Aaron’s face and kissed him, longingly, lovingly, like he wanted to draw all breath out of him because he needed it to live himself.</p><p>Then he straightened up and hissed: “I will do it. For you and me! Get me to him and I will kill him! I will punish him for everything he did to us.”</p><p>Tears streamed down his cheeks a moment later and his eyes burned with feverish determination that was fixed on Aaron’s face as if that man was the only thing in the world that mattered anymore. Never had anybody looked at him like that… Not even close… not even once.</p><p>It was a lie, that was the sad thing about it all, Aaron realized, even in the moment of his triumph. He got what he wanted, and it seemed he might even be granted much more than he had ever expected to archive in terms of revenge.</p><p>Only that <em>now</em> there was this small, little, burning inch inside of him, that did not want these eyes to look at anybody else…</p><p>He had made somebody <em>his </em>and he did not want to share.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
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    <p>It was raining just like in the night in which he had taken Arata from his cell and had brought him to the apartment on the seventh floor.</p><p>Aaron had stopped the car at the side of a lonely road somewhere in the suburbs of the city. Now the downpour washed over them filling the inside of the vehicle with warm, damp air and with the noise of the low, constant murmur on the roof and windshield. The light of some near streetlamps washed down with the water and both of them stared at it for a while, captivated by the sight.</p><p>For Arata this was him setting out to fulfill a task. Alec had made sure that traces could be found by whomever might still be looking for Takaba Akihito or Chernobog, which led right to Warsaw. And once the boy had left the car, he would wander the streets aimlessly, begging, stealing, vandalizing, molesting, until he would finally be picked up by the police. In the capital they were not lenient with foreigners – especially if they did not speak a single word Polish.</p><p>For the other man however – unbeknownst to the boy – this was goodbye. He would surely hear of whatever would happen once Arata met Asami, no matter if that was a few days from now or a week or a month. But he did not plan to see him again.</p><p>Aaron pushed that outlook aside with a strong hand rubbing across his face.</p><p>“It is time to go, isn’t it?”, the young man in the passenger seat asked, now turning towards him. He wore sneakers and jeans, a shirt beneath a hoodie and a jacket on top. All of that was a bit too warm for the temperature of June, but Aaron did not want to lose his little magic weapon’s power due to some stupid cold or other sickness at this point.</p><p>With a sigh he looked at the other and reached out with a hand to trail his fingers through that fine, too long, too unkempt hair before he even realized he was moving.</p><p>“Yeah…”, he answered irritated about himself and almost inaudibly in the din caused by the rain. There might just have been the rumble of thunder somewhere in the far distance. He wasn’t sure though.</p><p>His voice was a bit weak, he discovered and excused that by explaining to himself that he had just become really good at acting. It felt kind of naturally now. Like he in fact believed the lies himself.</p><p>Arata smiled at him, his huge eyes full of warmth and kindness and love. Inside that boy – no matter what his name was – there had to be one giant, strong heart beating, for him to still hold so much positiveness he was even able to share it… especially after all that had happened to him. Maybe he was the first genuinely good person Aaron had ever crossed paths with, he mused, and found himself wondering if meeting him sooner in his life had made any difference.</p><p>No one had ever looked at him like that. Not once.</p><p><em>Well</em>… it was too late to think about any of that today.</p><p>He sniffled and looked out of the window again. If they stopped talking right now, if they fell silent again, maybe the moment would pass, the night would end, and they would have another day together. Then for another few hours Aaron could try to pretend that the lies were reality and that somebody cared about him – and not just because he had been deceived into doing so.</p><p>Yet within the water running down the window he could faintly make out the reflection of his own face, his haunting bright eyes and the scar marking him.</p><p>In the end it were just lies. He would always be aware of it, no matter how much he betrayed himself into believing them. <em>‘Too little, too late’</em>, he thought and wanted to laugh at himself in spite. Whenever had he become such a whiny sod?</p><p>“Then I should go”, the young man next to him declared suddenly in feverish determination. He did not seem afraid anymore. His smile was strong and brave, when Aaron turned towards him in surprise.</p><p>“I will kill him for us both. And then we will be together. I promise!”, Arata exclaimed.</p><p><em>‘Hah!’</em>, Aaron laughed at himself. He had made so many pledges and vows to the other which had been nothing but good acting and hot air. It served him just right, that now he was told some of them himself, knowing how false they were.</p><p>Arata leaned in and kissed him. His lips were sweet and warm on his own, his hands touching his cheeks and not flinching away from the rough scar were gentle.</p><p>But then the kiss was broken. Arata smiled at him one more time, then he opened the door and stepped outside.</p><p>Aaron remained there, unmoving for a long while, staring down the street – even after the other had vanished somewhere in rain and night.</p><p> </p><p>(The End...)</p>
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